


Dark Past

by rico with a gun (Heterochromia_Mars)



Series: School's In (and Marlene needs a break) [4]
Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, POV Second Person, POV Skipper, and julien made him stay in detention with him instead of going to the library, but private got dragged into things beyond his control, i forgot to add this to the tags until anna asked, maurice is just there bc his mom wont pick him up for another 2 hours, private picks up british terms from his uncle and insists on using them, warning this fic is really tragic :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heterochromia_Mars/pseuds/rico%20with%20a%20gun
Summary: There's some things you'd rather forget.





	Dark Past

"Private, I'll forgive this because your British accent is adorable, but you're in America and in America we call that 'elementary school.' What I will not forgive, however, is you dredging up my dark past like that." 

"Ooh, Private exposed you for stuff you did in _'junior school,'_ " Marlene warbles from behind you and snickers. "Super dark, Skipper."

You shoot her a warning look and she raises an eyebrow at you.

You’re (generously) willing to let it lie, turning back towards the front of the room until you hear faint giggling coming from the back of the classroom - at which point you whip around and flip Ringtail off. Marlene gets a pass on account of being Marlene (and because the fact that her being in detention at all is kinda sort of maybe but-not-entirely your fault), but Julien? He can die in a fire. 

"Wait," Ringtail says, realisation dawning on his face. "The Skipper that Ms Gloria talks about being disappointed of that he left the dancing program is Skipper? You've been holding out on me!"

You can _physically_ feel any remaining joy draining from your life by the second. 

"Wait. Who did you think she meant?" Maurice frowns from the corner he's claimed as his Peaceful Reading Corner (complete with handwritten-in-sharpie-on-lined-paper sign). 

"I don't know, some other Skipper. Or maybe she was speaking in code, like an A-C-R-O-N-"

"Yeah, ok, I think we get it," you interrupt. Jesus, this is giving you a headache.

"Hey, hey, settle in a downwards direction. I just thought that of course it was not you with your dumpy body and generally totally uncool jock attitude."

"I am not _dumpy._ " The jock attitude thing, on the other hand? That you’ll proudly admit to. 

"Um, yes you are! And look at you, you totally lack the grace required to be a dancer." Julien sniffs imperiously. "What kind of dance would you even do? A broken dance?” Ringtail chortles to himself at his own joke. “Get it, like a break dance, except it is broken and sad, like your dancing talent!”

Thank god he explained the joke. You never would have got it otherwise.

(...There’s a chance Marlene’s sarcasm is starting to rub off on you.)

"Skipper doesn’t lack grace!" Private protests, balling his hands up into fists and resting them on his hips.

"Uh, yes I do. Unless you're talking about at sports, or even at video games, then yes, I'm very graceful. But NOT at anything else." 

"Skipper's very graceful," Private continues as though you hadn't said anything at all, "and light on his feet."

Huh. Well, that could sort of be about sports, you guess - 

"That's what made him such a good ballerina!" 

You bury your face in your hands as the detention room erupts into snickering (or, in Ringtail's case, full-blown guffawing complete with pounding the desk with a fist. 

With any luck, the gates of hell will open and consume you before you have to suffer through any more of this. 

" _Please_ tell me you have pictures," you hear Marlene say gleefully despite your best efforts to melt into your chair. 

Private pulls out his phone eagerly as you flop your head down on your desk dramatically and groan. (Hey, this is a completely reasonable reaction to the situation. You are going through actual, literal torture right now. Someone ought to call the police. Or the FBI.)

"I hate all of you," you inform the desk, to little effect. "You are all dead to me."

**Author's Note:**

> skipper found dead in miami


End file.
